Aware
by adorations
Summary: Maka is trying to remember, Kid can't forget, and Black Star just wants to help. Alternate Universe, multiple pairings, told from most, if not all, of the main character's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater**

**Soul**

There's something about waking up that seems entirely anti-climatic.

Maybe I'm putting too much faith in the concept of new days bringing new beginnings( and really, any amount of faith in said concept is to much) but I'm always jarringly disappointed when I don't spring out of bed like a newborn rabbit and sing catchy tunes about how today is the day. The day that I finally get my life together, that is.

Instead my mornings are, for a lack of both words and originality, a train wreck. I'll skim over the details of my arduous attempts to rub drool from my hair and scrape sleep from my eyes all the while looking and smelling no better than a sewer rat, no offense intended, of course, and suffice it to say that watching me wake up is a lot like watching a dog trying to catch his own tail.

Once I'm up and by up I mean out of my bed and stumbling to the bathroom, everything is pretty routine. I shower, dress myself, and glare at my hair, you get the point. The important part in all of this is that my morning routine is entirely uninteresting and does nothing to prepare me for the phenomenon that is my roommate.

The problem with Black Star isn't the fact that he lives in the same two pairs of superhero themed boxers or spends his time A) at the gym or B) playing video games. It isn't even the fact that he signs his name with an honest to god drawing of a star instead of just, you know, using the alphabet. The real problem with him is that he says things like "Maka's dad phoned" before I've had time to drink coffee or properly digest my waffle. I don't want to be a pessimist but I'd be lying if I said this helpful bit of information didn't completely ruin my morning and by proxy my entire day.

It is at this point that the black hole that is my brain swallows the rest of my body and leaves me to wander through a pool of things I'd rather not think about. Things like her and her_ just_ green eyes and the way her face flushed when she was happy. Things like the car that didn't stop, her scream when she went through the window. Things like her in a hospital bed with her skin paper thin and stretched sparingly across her body. Things like her doctor telling us that she'll be ok only to let the words "possible amnesia" spill from her lips just moments later. I think about her in the past tense like she's gone and not coming back and it is grossly selfish of me to do so. I know she is here, I know she is alive, I know she is Maka. But I can't imagine a Maka Albarn who doesn't know that we are best friends.

Black Star only lets me dwell for a moment. I think he's gotten used to my occasional fits of angst and general despair and is therefore better at cutting them short."He wants you to go see her," he says this in what I'm sure he considers a gentle tone but is really just a less aggressive version of how he usually talks.I don't mean to undermine his attempts at helping me, but he really needs to learn how to stop sounding like he constantly wants to punch someone in the face.

"I know", I reply, and I do. Spirit Albarn has called multiple times a day for a total of 5 days requesting my presence at his house. The guy has always been kind of annoying and possibly psychotic but the fact that he calls me of his own will now is enough to tell me that he has truly lost his mind. Spirit hates me in the same way that everyone else hates mosquitoes and aside from frequent exchanges of sarcasm and insults we don't exactly talk to each other. Now I can't answer the phone without hearing his voice and I don't mean this in a good way.I know that he firmly believes that seeing a face as familiar as mine might help to "jog" her memory, but I'm not as hopeful. "I'll go soon," I tell Black Star, but I'm pretty sure that I'm lying.

"Right now" he's standing right in front of me now and he sounds pretty confident with this new idea. Like he thinks that his confidence will rub off on me and I'll back-flip out of my chair before proceeding to march straight to Maka's house. I don't and I won't and he must see this because he gives me a look. A look that speaks of antics and shenanigans that will result in making me miserable if I do not do what he intends. Nevertheless I stand my ground as I'm pretty sure the worst he could do is use my toothbrush or eat all of the mini pizzas and this is something he does on a daily basis so I've come to be prepared for such events. Instead of replying I opt to give him the silent treatment. I realize that this is a childish tactic yet it remains effective. If I reply I will have to carry out a conversation about why I am so set on staying away from the Albarn house which will lead to a conversation about how I am terrified of myself and of her and that the idea of me and her together will be laid to rest. If I don't visit her then I can keep imagining her as she was before. If I don't visit her I don't have to deal with the possibility that she will never remember. The logic is simple and speaks of cowardice but I've grown immune to caring about my own spineless back.

I push my chair back and let squeal across the tiles and then like the overgrown child I am I stand up and exit the room without saying a word. I spend the rest of the day locked in my room and Black Star, like the true friend that he is, uses both my toothbrush and my backup toothbrush. Needless to say, I am less than ecstatic about the whole ordeal.

Despite the toothbrush incident, and the Maka incident, my life continues to pour through my fingers and gather itself into a puddle that I am constantly trying to step around. I am pretty sure I am going to fail my classes and be fired from my job as I haven't been present at either for at least a week now. I try to care about these things, I really do, but it's hard to care about things that don't relate to your current problems. Spirit continues to call as he does and I continue to ignore him as I do and nothing changes yet everything is different and I try not to get too caught up in that line of thought. I eat what is probably an inconceivable amount of waffles and drink enough coffee to fear a possible caffeine overdose. I nap in the afternoons and I walk all night and I am not going anywhere but I like how my shoes sound when they slap against the ground.

Nothing Changes but everything is different.

Nothing changes, but then it does.

The phone rings, 8 days into my absence from the world. I know it is Spirit and that he still wants me to see her. I know I will pick up the phone and the first thing that leaves his mouth will be "please." I know I won't let myself care. I answer the phone.

It's not him.

The voice is soft and determined,"Who are you?" Maka Albarn asks and I'm quite sure that I've stopped breathing.

**Authors note:**

I feel like I am ruining the characters and I'd like to apologize for this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Soul eater, Mcdonalds, or anything else that seems even vaguely familiar. **

**Kid**

I spend my 19th birthday in my bed squashed between two girls, and no, it's not what you think.

Liz or Elizabeth Thompson (depending on how well you do or do not know her) shows up at my house at exactly 8:03 in the morning with her younger and much louder sister in tow. Tow of course being an objective term because one does not _persuade _let alone _force _Patty to go anywhere she doesn't want to go. Patty smacks a rhythm-less rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" into my door and I swear I have never moved to open it faster.

Opening my door for Liz and Patty is always an event in and of itself and today is no different. They screech happy birthday at varying tones and Patty shoves a plastic bag full of something into my hands. I'm not entirely sure what I'd expected when, not even a week ago, Patty had announced that she'd be the one choosing my present, but it certainly wasn't this. The bag is filled with plastic glow in the dark stars and for a moment I think that they've elected to give me some horribly abstract metaphor about how it's whats on the inside that counts. I'm not sure if I should be offended or amused but either way I figure I should probably smile. Before I can muster up a less than half hearted "thank you", Liz tosses a pack of wall tack into the bag and Patty says " We're going to make you your own sky."

Now I'm almost touched because no one knows better than these two about my hatred for the night sky. Sure stars are beautiful and whatever else but they're also grossly disorganized and looking at them for to long makes me physically sick. Which I'd always guessed was kind of pathetic but Liz and Patty had taken it and all my other "quirks" in stride and I suppose that is the reason I put up with them in the first place. I don't know when putting up with them turned into being almost dependent on their companionship ship and I'm not about to question it.

The three of us make our way up to my bedroom which is really the epitome of all rooms . Everything is clean, organized, and most of all symmetric because symmetry is both my aesthetic and my safety blanket. I try not to let anyone least of all Patty in there but I make an exception because she's so damn excited about the Kid- ified sky and I can't just lock myself in there and do it myself.

Patty gets to work straight away, standing on a chair and humming to herself like she's never been happier. At first I'm pretty content to sit on the floor next to Liz with our backs pressed against the wall and our legs splayed out in front of us. Then I actually look at what Patty's doing and consider throwing myself out of the window. She`s not placing the stars in neat rows so much as she is slapping them into place with reckless abandon. Before I can say something that would most likely crush her candy filled soul Liz handles the situation with practiced grace. "Hey, Patty, I think Kid wants to help."

Patty is only too excited for my involvement in her mass arts and crafts project. She continues sticking stars to my ceiling in the way she sees fit and I follow closely behind her, re-sticking them in proper positions when she's not looking. The process which should have only taken an hour at most ends up taking nearly the whole day, partly because of Patty's many snack breaks but mostly because of my own need for precision. The end result is my ceiling covered in stars lined side by side in neat rows of eight.

When we finish it's only just starting to get dark outside so even turning my lights off doesn't give the full effect but the stars do glow softly. We arrange ourselves on my bed, Patty to my left and Liz to my right, and look up at the plastic shapes with as much intensity as one would look at the real sky with. I figure that if I was alone I'd appreciate it a lot more and maybe even find it kind of calming. I'm not alone though and all I can think about is how weird Liz and Patty must think I am to _want_ the sky to look like this. I'm starting to get nervous which means I'm starting to sweat which is kind of really gross considering my position. I'm clearing my throat, ready to spit out some kind of "thank you but now you need to go" speech when Liz says "I like it". She says it like she's really saying that she likes me and I consider pushing her off the bed. I'm more than grateful for Liz but I`m prone to forgetting that she's more locked onto to my feelings than she is her own. The amount of times that she`s said just the right thing is really starting to get to me because I`m always saying all the wrong things.

There`s only so long that two just-barely-adults and one teenager can stare at plastic stars before the whole thing loses it`s novelty. We reach our limit at 5 minutes when Liz announces that she`s hungry and Patty declares that she wants Mcdonalds.

Mcdonalds is unremarkable except for maybe the amount of salt they manage to fit on their fries. We eat, we talk, Patty makes a fort with her chicken nuggets, all in all the endeavor does nothing to prepare me for the sight I'm greeted with upon my return home.

I can't tell if my stomach drops to my knees or if my heart jumps to my throat, but I'm left both paralyzed and speechless at the sight of the cop car sitting innocently in my driveway.

* * *

**I`m really sorry about the wait. I got a big assignment that took months to finish and then I had exams and I kind of just forgot that this existed. I suck, I know. I really am sorry.** **It probably won`t happen again. I`ll get back to Soul and Maka next chapter, but I had to start setting up Kid's part of the story. Thanks to anyone who read the first chapter, even if you don't continue reading, I really appreciate it.  
**


End file.
